“I was not there, but I have it on good authority that she was unconscious when they tied her to the stake. With all the screaming going on, you could not have known it was her you heard.”
“So you smuggled in something to send her to sleep, to spare her the pain and humiliation?”
He nodded.
“It was the best I could do,” he went on. “Had she been anyone else, I could perhaps have got her out, but they knew she was one of the leaders. Had I been suspected then, I would have lost the ability to help, to warn them. I could not risk it, not for one woman, not even for her. I am so sorry.”
She clung to him, tears beginning to erupt.
“You saved her,” she said. “And you saved me. I thought she hated me, but she did not even know I was there. I have to get word to Charles, Richard, do you not see? He will be suffering as I was, believing she died in agony. It would mean so much to him to know the truth.”
“I do not want you to go there,” he said.
“Why? Do you still not trust me?”
He pulled her close.
“Of course I trust you, but seeing him, seeing Simon, will be like being in this place. It will bring back awful memories which can only stand between us.”
“May I write to him?”
“Very well,” he agreed. “But do not tell him it was me who gave her the drug.”
“Why not?”
“Because he will likely not believe you and that will defeat the object. Tell him it was you.”
She shook her head.
“He will not believe that. I would have told him before now if I had known.”
Richard was thoughtful for a little while.
“Tell him it was Adrian, Earl of Kennington.”
“Who is he?”
“A friend, a man who has been helping me.”
“The same man who saw Charles come here and thought he was my lover?”
He nodded.
“Come,” he said, taking her hand. “Let us get out of this place. I will order it demolished as soon as possible.”
“It should stay. Think of all the people I saved because of this place.”
“Think of the day I left you here, think of what I did before I left you here.” He held her away from him and sighed impatiently. "Do you want our children to one day come asking about this place, about its history? Will you tell them the truth, that their mother lived here, alone and in poverty, imprisoned by their father in one of his more vicious moods?"
"If I do that, I will have to tell them his reasons, tell them the cause of his vicious mood. I will have to tell them that their mother broke all her promises to their father and betrayed him by helping his enemies. I will have to tell them she got precisely what she deserved."
He pulled her into his arms, while she reached up and kissed him hungrily.
"Supposing we make some new memories," she whispered.
She slipped her hand beneath his doublet and shirt and began to caress his back, but he held her away from him.
"Not here, please," he pleaded. "I cannot. Not here."
"If it means that much to you, we will destroy this place, raze it to the ground and pretend it never existed. We will never have to tell our children what happened here, but one day they may find Rosemary's portrait, like I did, and they will want to know about her, like I did." She watched his expression change and a little frown appeared on his brow. "I will make a bargain with you."
"You did that once before, remember?" He said with a little smile. "I seem to recall it did not work out as planned."
"This one is much simpler," she replied. "You have the portrait cleaned, hang her in the gallery where she belongs, and I will not object to the destruction of the cottage. I will swear to you that our children will never know what happened here."
"Why does it mean so much to you? Why will you not let me forget she ever existed?"
"Because she did exist and your relationship with her is part of who you are. She helped to shape you, just as Rachel did. Why, without her influence you might never have chosen me for your wife." His words when he first proposed their marriage resounded in her mind: I do not want a wife who does not want me. She paused thoughtfully, unsure whether to ask her next question. "Why did you not have the marriage annulled? It would have been the best thing for both of you, surely."
"I did not think it right to subject her to such an invasive examination."
"So you would not frighten her by insisting on the consummation, which was your right, and you would not even annul the marriage because of the intimate nature of the enquiries. Why all that for someone you hated? For someone you want to erase from existence?"
She paused while he shrugged and looked at her sheepishly, as though his kindness had been something of which to be ashamed.
"I know why," she answered her own question. "Because you are a kind man and whether you cared for her or not, you accepted your duty as her husband to protect her. I do not want my children coming to me or to you and asking what your first wife had done, what crime she had committed, that she was not even allowed a presence with all the other family members. I do not want to have to tell them that her only crime was in not being what you wanted her to be."
"Very well," he agreed with a sigh. "But if she is to have her portrait in the gallery, then yours must be there too. I will concede that you are right about Rosemary, if you will concede that I am right about this place."
"It is a bargain."
"Talking of those children who will never know what happened here,” she murmured, “do you not think we should start on them sooner rather than later. Can we go back to the house now, please? I have an urgent need to be alone with you."
Outside the cottage she led him by the hand to the spot beneath the tree where she had often sat with her memories and her misery.
"This is where you first took me as your wife," she told him. "Do you remember?"
"Indeed I do," he said with a smile as he put his arm around her protectively. "You were trembling so much I thought you might run away."
"My first instinct was to do just that. But although you were a stranger to me, and I feared your touch, you promised you would not hurt me. I trusted you to keep your word."
He was quiet for a few moments and when he finally spoke, his words surprised her.
"I too was afraid," he said hesitantly.
"You? Why? You were no virgin."
He laughed softly.
"No, but I had never had the deflowering of one before. I had already failed to consummate one marriage."
"And you blamed yourself for that? But that was not your doing."
"Was it not? I could never be sure before. I did not want to frighten you too."
"I was very nervous. I knew nothing; I had no real idea of what was expected of me or whether it would be something unpleasant I was duty bound to endure." She stopped and looked at him, and saw that little mischievous glitter in his eyes.
"And is it?" He asked flirtatiously.
She laughed, then her gaze caught his.
“I fell in love with you here, that first day.”
He held her hand to his lips, watched her over the top of it and smiled reminiscently.
"After only a few days of knowing you,” he said, “I realised that for the first time in my life I had no need of any other woman and it started on that first day. That was when you began to turn my world upside down, to steal away the control I always had over my life. That was when I began to miss you when you were not there, when I started to look forward to seeing you. More than that you made me hunger for you, made me want you, as I have never wanted another woman in my entire life. You made me feel like the most important man on earth. How could any man resist that?"
She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it.
"You are the most important man on earth," she answered softly.
"And then the King died and I let it all collapse. I knew I would fight for Mary; I had waited almost six
years for the opportunity to do so. The Summerville Earls have always fought beside the monarch until Edward took the throne. Even when King Henry broke with Rome and we were all forced to sign his damned Oath."
"I assume you signed it, or you would have met the same fate as Sir Thomas More."
"I did. More was a good and honest man, but he was a fool. I was not going to risk my head for a silly oath that meant nothing."
"But you risked it for me."
"That was different. You were worth it."
He kissed her and smiled at her, his eyes locked on hers.
"You completely destroyed my plans, you know," he said with a smile. "When I first proposed to you, I had it all planned out, I knew precisely how it would be. I would find an independent woman, one who could talk intelligently and was not afraid to speak her mind. We would come to a civilised agreement. I would go and fight for Mary when the time came and yes, I wanted to marry before that happened, to at least try for an heir in case I did not return. I did not intend for love to enter the equation at all and when it did, I was torn in two directions, and that was a feeling I did not enjoy at all." He paused and gave her a bashful look. "I thought when I went away, you might forget those feelings and so might I. I was wrong."
"Is that why you tried to push me away?" She asked sombrely. "Is that why you behaved like that cold and arrogant stranger I had believed you to be when we first met?"
"Yes. And I told myself it was for your own good. I knew by then I could not have you at court and I imagined you would be happier if I could make you think less of me."
"What an absurd plan, My Lord," she answered. "Just as if a few harsh words could have made me think less of you."
"I wish I had stayed here with you, never gone to London."
"Did you have a choice?"
"Not really. I had to fight for Mary or be condemned as a traitor when she won, and I knew she would win. When Jane Grey was proclaimed Queen, Mary wrote to all her noblemen seeking their support. I know at least one who failed to respond and was later coerced into serving her anyway. Adrian was a Protestant and very unhappy about it."
"I wish we could make love here again, now," she murmured. "That would be my ideal new start."
It was damp and cold and he gave an exaggerated shiver.
"Perhaps when the springtime comes," he said with a laugh.
He pulled a knife from his belt and approached the tree, began to carve some words into the bark.
“Will that do instead?”
She moved to stand beside him, looked at the writing and smiled. Richard loves Bethany.
"That is perfect.”
They held hands and carried on walking toward their waiting horses, anxious to return to the privacy of home.
Before they had a chance to mount, a figure appeared through the woods. It was Will, Connie's husband who had been so distraught when he thought Richard was dead.
"My Lord," he cried, running toward them. "Connie told me we had got you back. I cannot tell you how happy we all are." Then he bowed toward Bethany as he drew to a halt. "My Lady. Is this not a great day?"
"The greatest, Will, the very greatest."
"I want..." Richard began, then paused and looked at her before starting again. "That is, we want this cottage destroyed. Can you arrange it? Burn it to the ground. I want no trace of it to remain."
"Yes, My Lord," Will replied. "I am surprised you’ve not ordered it before now."
They exchanged a puzzled glance, wondering just what secrets this man and his colleagues knew that they would rather they did not know. Servants and tenants knew everything. They would both be humiliated if it transpired that they all knew what had happened here.
"What do you mean by that, Will?"
"Well, My Lady," he replied, rubbing his chin, "the poor lady who lived here last was a leper, so I heard. The disease could still be hanging about. The only way to get rid of it is fire."
They both breathed a sigh of relief, then Richard glanced at her and smiled. She knew he was thinking the same as her. They could grab this excuse with which Will had presented them as a reason to destroy the place.
"Will you see to it?" Richard asked.
"Right away, My Lord," Will replied as he turned and started to move away, looking back over his shoulder as he went. "So pleased to have you back."
Later that evening, their sleep was interrupted by a loud explosion coming from the church. Bethany climbed out of bed and donned a fur cloak with which to cover herself, then went to the window to look out.
She saw the flames rising high above the trees and knew that Will was carrying out his orders and consigning the priest's cottage to oblivion. She felt Richard's hand on her shoulder as he watched with her and she turned to look up at him, saw his satisfied smile as he held her against him.
"It is gone," he said. "We can only hope it takes all its bad memories with it."
***
"Tell me more about Rachel," she said when they had returned to bed.
The flickering from the flames in the distance bounced off the window, making it appear cosy and warm.
Talking about Rachel was very difficult for Bethany. For years she had hated the woman, had believed Richard loved her, was spending his nights in her bed, sharing his tenderness and his body with her, while she could only pine for him, knowing Rachel was stealing his love away, knowing that she herself had driven him into that woman’s arms.
Now to learn the woman had risked her life by allowing him to present her to the Queen as his wife, knowing that she did so to protect that wife, was a lot to accept. Rachel was beautiful, the sort of beauty which turned heads and made people watch her as she approached, made artists long to capture her image for all eternity.
If what Richard and Rachel had told her was the truth, she had to trust him; she could do nothing else.
"How did you meet her? She is the sort of woman you would have pursued, but I do not believe you did, or she would not still be your friend. I just think it odd that a woman like that could have met you any other way."
"You are right, as it happens," he began. "It was the birth of Prince Edward. The King invited everyone in court circles to the celebrations, he was so ecstatic, and Rachel had no one to escort her. Knowing that things were not, shall we say, close between me and my Countess, that she would likely not be attending herself, he asked me to escort her."
Mention of his being at the court of King Henry made her realise how much older than her he was. She had not really thought about it before, but she held tight to him now; one day she may well lose him. He was nearly twice her age.
And Rachel too was so much older than her, so much more experienced of the ways of the world. She was Richard’s contemporary; his wife was not.
“I never thought of it before,” she said teasingly. “You are old enough to be my father.”
He laughed, held her close.
“I am indeed, but still you will not do as you are told.”
“Is that what you want?” She snuggled close and spoke against his neck. “You can be my master here in this chamber; you will always be my master here.”
He kissed her passionately, arousing those longings once more.
"So King Henry asked you to escort Rachel?"
"Yes," he answered. "I have no idea what he was thinking. Perhaps he thought I could help her to blossom, as he had been unable to do, or perhaps he thought to give me a partner for the ball and the night to follow."
"And you escorted her to the ball, but not beyond? Are you sure?"
"It was certainly my intention to pursue her when I went there, but I soon saw my advances would be unwelcome. When a man takes the hand of a woman in greeting and she flinches away, he should know that something is not quite as normal. It seems I was the first one to either notice or to care." He sighed softly, reminiscently. "So we went to the palace and we had a really good time together. We got on well; she was intelligent and funny and I felt sad that I had n
ot met a woman like her instead of Rosemary. But I knew I could never ask anything from her."
“You will see her again, will you not?"
"She does not expect it, Bethany. You heard what she said; she does not want to come between us."
"She is not going to come between us. Nothing and nobody is ever going to come between us again," she declared firmly. "She is your friend, you are hers and her protector. She still needs you and perhaps she always will. I do not want to be the one to deprive her of that comfort, especially after she risked her life for me."
He sat up then and looked down at her.
"I would like to keep in contact with Rachel," he replied carefully. "But only if you are sure. I will do nothing to distress you, to make you feel less secure."
"That will not happen. She is your friend and if she were a man, we would not be having this conversation. You would think nothing of visiting a friend of your own sex. Perhaps we can visit her together."
They were interrupted by the sound of hooves and cartwheels in the courtyard.
CHAPTER TWO
"Stay here," Richard said as he moved away from the window and dressed hurriedly.
"Who is it?"
"Anthony. I do not want him anywhere near you."
He must have known she would not meekly hide behind closed doors, but she could not don these complicated clothes by herself. She put on her shift and a petticoat, then the fur cloak over the top. She went to the top of the stairs in bare feet and looked down as Anthony came striding toward Richard.
"Why have you come?" Richard asked abruptly.
Bethany hoped he had come to apologise, to make peace with his cousin but the look on his face told her that was not his motive for being here.
"There is a chest in the attic belonging to me," he replied. "It has some papers and jewellery left me by my parents. I want it."
"You can take it," Richard said quickly. "I'll not deprive you of anything which rightfully belongs to you."
Anthony scoffed loudly.
"With the exception of my rightful place in this house, of course," he said angrily. "With the exception of the respect I am owed."
It was pointless. Why did he not understand that Richard was not going to give in to him, that he was not about to put his wife aside for him?
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